


Some of us Love You

by chaosphrog



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alexis | Quackity Is Mexican Dream, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Relationships, TommyInnit Is Dead, tommy cant get out of the backrooms, underworld target but its the backrooms, wilbur gets him out, wilbur wants to help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29883351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosphrog/pseuds/chaosphrog
Summary: After being beaten to death by Dream, Tommy wakes up in an unfamiliar space and is found by his older brother.my friends and i decided to write this after tommy died, and had an idea in mind for a plot, so tommy isn't coming back to life. hope you enjoy!
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	1. Tommy?

**Tommy POV**

He opened his eyes, head throbbing. He lay on his back on the cold, white floor. He groaned and propped himself up onto his elbows. Everything around him was just a white space.

“Where… where am I?” he shakily asked himself. 

Suddenly, a wave of foggy memories came shooting into his brain, his eyes widened. He was in the prison, with Dream when Dream started striking him with his fists. Dream’s hands wrapped around his neck. Tommy struggled for air, gasping for breath at any chance he could get. He blacked out. 

He wiped under his nose, hot blood continued to drain from it.“No,” his voice was soft, “no, no, no, no, no, NO!” He screamed. His throat felt like fire.

His hands ran through his hair, trying to block out the thoughts from running through his head. 

“I can’t be…, no, surely not,” his voice shook. He looked at his pale arms, at the deep purple bruises dotted along his body. 

“I’m not dead,” he laughed weakly, trying to convince himself it was true. 

He got up and walked over to the white wall. He had to get out of here. 

He punched it. It didn’t move. He pushed it with all his might. It started to budge. Engulfed in new energy, he pushed and punched, trying to get out. 

With each strike on the wall, Tommy’s hands got bloodier, new bruises covering the already dark purple ones on his hand. He slid down the wall in despair. He sat in front of the barrier, still slightly punching the wall. 

It felt like he had been trying to push open the barrier for days. 

His vision was blurred by the tears that coated his eyes. He peered down at his hands, his knuckles practically in shreds from his efforts of breaking the barrier. He finally allowed a tear to slip down his face. “I’m- I’m dead.” he sobbed. 

The world seemed to sway around him. His vision blurred, and then… black. 

**Wilbur POV**

He needed to get out of that cramped room with those two idiots. Mexican Dream and Schlatt had been fighting all day about who got to have the last shot of vodka. He stepped out of the door frame leading to the outside of their small room that they shared. 

“Ayy where are you going man?” Mexican Dream asked, his voice slurred from all the alcohol he had consumed that day. 

“Out,” Wilbur said, somewhat annoyed.

“Hey, Wilbur,” Schatt called from where he was lounging on the sofa, “while you’re out get me a pack of cigarettes and maybe another one of those whiskey bottles from that brand that I like? Thanks.” 

Wilbur rolled his eyes and hurried out of the apartment. He took a breath of fresh air, grateful for the chance to finally be rid of the nuisances in the house they lived in. All he had been doing was the chores for the others, and he was getting tired of it. 

Wilbur began his journey to the local Underworld Target, hopping onto his yellow bike, throwing his phone into the basket, and his sky blue canvas bag over his shoulder.

His bike ride was extremely boring, as he, Mexican Dream, and Schlatt were the only ones dead, therefore they were the only ones in the Underworld. Which means no other people. The only reason Wilbur was still living with the idiots was that somehow, whenever one of them left for too long, they would go missing for a few days. They didn’t want to find out what happened if they were apart for too long. 

He biked past the single apartment building he and his roommates shared and glanced up at the sky. It was a deep red, telling Wilbur it was close to dusk. The sun, (if there was one in the Underworld) was covered by the never-ceasing clouds. Wilbur had learned to tell what time it was by the color of the sky. 

Wilbur biked through the green meadows, occasionally stopping to look at the field of flowers that never seemed to end.

As he pulled into the Underworld Target parking lot, Wilbur grabbed his phone out of his basket and readjusted the bag on his shoulder. He threw his bike onto the ground in front of the door, not particularly caring where he put it. 

He pushed open the door of the store and went to find the whisky and cigarettes for Schlatt. After he got those and threw them into his bag, he went to the first aid aisle. He grabbed a couple of packs of bandages and antiseptic, as they were running low in the apartment. 

He went to the medicine counter to see if he could find any ibuprofen to ease his headaches. He had been getting them ever since he died, and the meds had been his only form of comfort. He found where they were, and grabbed a few bottles. He didn’t really care if he took too many, because you can’t die twice, right? 

As he was about to leave, he heard a faint thumping from the back room. 

_ That’s impossible.  _

Cautiously stepping forward, trying to be as quiet as possible, he stepped into the back room. 

Except it wasn’t  _ a  _ room. It was a labyrinth, going on and on to who knows where. 

_ That’s…, impossible. No one- _

His thoughts were cut off by a soft cry to his left. 

Wilbur timidly stepped towards the cry. It seemed familiar. Too familiar. 

After going into a few different passages, he found where it was coming from. In one of the rooms secluded from the outside world, a small, helpless boy laid beaten up and bloody. 

“Tommy?” Wilbur gasped. 


	2. Talk?

**TW/CW: almost a panic attack**

Wilbur blinked a few times as if trying to wake himself up from a bad dream. When he realized it wasn’t, he rushed over to Tommy. He scooped the young boy into his arms, carefully avoiding the worst of the bruises. The worst of them were ringed around his neck in a cruel necklace in the shape of hands.

Tears started to form in Wilbur’s eyes, as he walked back through the labyrinth to the main store. Gently, he set Tommy down and went to get supplies to patch Tommy up.

As Wilbur grabbed ointments off the shelves, he noticed his breathing get faster, and his heart started to race. He felt the all too familiar feeling in his chest and sighed.

_No, no, this can’t be happening right now, I have a beaten-up brother to take care of and I don’t need this now, mental illness._

Wilbur took a few deep breaths, in the slow manner his therapist taught him to. Well. His therapist when he was alive.

When he felt calm enough to help Tommy, he got up and went back over to where he left the boy. He was motionless, save the short, shallow breaths.

Peeling Tommy’s shirt off to view the rest of the wounds, Wilbur let out a small noise of despair. Peppering Tommy’s body was more blue, purple, and black bruises. But that wasn’t what worried Wilbur.

On Tommy’s left ribs was a mammoth bruise that was a deep blood red. Bruised. Badly. Too badly. If Wilbur had to bet, he would bet some of Tommy’s ribs were broken.

_All that from a green bastard. I’m going to kill him. How dare he hurt my baby brother like this. He deserves death. A long, slow, and painful one._

Shaking the intrusive thoughts away, Wilbur grabbed a cotton pad, poured some water onto it, and began to clean the blood off the boy. He had almost finished when Tommy startled awake.

Tommy groaned and opened his eyes. He glanced around, taking in his surroundings. He then noticed Wilbur. Wilbur reached out to embrace him, but Tommy flinched violently. Wilbur recoiled his outstretched arms.

Hands shielding his face, Tommy begged, “No no, don’t hurt me, I’m sorry I won't do it again Dream, I swear.”

“Tommy, Toms, bubs, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not Dream. You’re safe here. I won't hurt you, ever,” Wilbur coaxed.

Tommy stopped begging Dream for his life and glanced at Wilbur truly for the first time since they’d been reunited. Wilbur almost smiled, seeing his younger brother look at him for the first time in what felt like forever. Then, his face went blank, as if he had remembered something from a past life. Realization set over the young one’s face, and he ran.

**Tommy POV**

He ran. He ran out of the store as fast and as far as he could even though it hurt like hell. Tommy knew Wilbur was behind him, he could feel the murderer's presence like a knot on his back. He was getting closer. Tommy heard the squeaky wheels of an old bicycle, and he made his fatal mistake. He looked back. He tripped over his shoelaces and fell face-first onto the rough gravel.

He was shaken awake a few minutes later, by his older brother. If he could still be called that. He had done so much to hurt him and his friends and had gone insane trying to destroy the nation they had worked so hard to build.

Tommy writhed, trying to get away before Wilbur hurt him. But Wilbur had always had a strong grasp and kept Tommy down. Not that he gave much of a fight. From being malnourished to literally being beaten to death, Tommy had lost all the strength he had. It was a miracle he was still alive. If it wasn’t for his stupid stubborn mind, he probably wouldn’t be.

Tommy stopped thrashing and accepted that he was being pinned down by the older.  
  
“Tommy. Stop struggling, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Lies. It was all lies. Evil things sugar-coated just how Tommy wanted to hear them. He covered his ears, drowning out the sound. He would not give in to the lies that his ‘brother’ was here to help him. He had never been, all he wanted to do was hurt him and his friends more.

The voice had stopped. Tommy felt a gentle hand on top of his. Slowly, he took his hands off his ears, and collapsed onto the older, unable to continue fighting.

He stared up at the dark sky, waiting for the pain to come. He felt hands wrap around him, and he closed his eyes.

But the hands didn't squeeze. They laid gently wrapped around him, in an almost loving manner. They weren’t hurting his ribs, which had been broken in the fight with Dream. It was almost as if Wilbur was trying to comfort him.

_No, don’t give into it. He’s tricking you._

Tommy couldn’t even look Wilbur in the eyes anymore.

“Tommy…” Wilbur started, his voice hoarse, “Tommy, I never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry, I truly am.”

Tommy shook Wilbur’s hands off of his. “Sorry doesn’t fix anything, Wilbur,” Tommy replied flatly. “You just expect me to forgive you? After all you’ve done? After all that you put me through?” Tommy broke down. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks. Wilbur took his hands away from Tommy’s

“I know what I did was fucked up but I had to do it,” Wilbur reached to touch Tommy’s shoulder.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Tommy said weakly.

Wilbur took his hands away.

“You could have let us live in peace,” Tommy continued, “let us be together without worrying what will happen to us. We should have lived our _fucking_ lives, not being blown up by the ones we love!” Tommy officially snapped. “I’m just a _kid_ Wilbur!” Tommy's voice cracked. His knees gave out and he dropped down onto the gravel road with his head in his hands. Wilbur wrapped his arms around Tommy. His eyes widened.

“I got you. It’s going to be okay, you’re going to be okay,” Wilbur said under his breath. Tommy started to sob harder. Tommy quickly pushed his shirt over his eyes and wiped the tears that were coming out.

“I just want to go home, Wilbur,” squeaked Tommy.

“We are home, Tommy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry. its only going to get worse from here :)


End file.
